Purify
by backpack bootswiper map
Summary: Down on his luck, the homeless and disabled veteran Wolf O'Donnell perchances upon a very gracious vulpine from his past. Offering him not only a comforting shoulder to lean on, but a chance to turn his life around, how will this lupine ever repay the kindness of Fox? Woox/MM, if that's not your cup of tea I recommend finding some of that Fystal trash you straights like so much.
1. the interview

one;  
the interview

* * *

"How long have you been homeless?"  
When Fox asks this question it's almost like he's not paying attention.  
Scribbling away at the papers on his desk. His penmanship is very neat and dextrous.

The way the point dances loops together into words like a professional ballerina might hop from toe to toe.  
Effortlessly, and with grace.

* * *

1

* * *

Wolf bites his lip in apprehension, unsure of the answer.  
"Wh-what year is it?"

Fox's scribbling pen stops abruptly and his ears perk up. His head follows his eyes up to Wolf's gaze and his eyebrows raise.  
"Excuse me?"

"What uh. What year is it?"

"9597,"  
Fox says, concerned.

Wolf is counting on his fingers.  
"I guess I luh-lost my right arm when you shot me down during the Lylat Wars in 9590. Suh-seven y-years."

Fox looks at him sympathetically.  
"Wolf, I-"

"Nuh-no, Fox,"  
Wolf says, shaking his head.  
"I was fuh-fighting for the wrong suh-side. I c-can't blame you for for doing your job as a m-m-muh-mercenary."

"Still, though," Fox sighs. "I feel guilty."

"Duh-don'-"

"I mean, I pitied you when I saw you out there on the street, which is why I invited you in for some coffee, but. Hhh. I tell you what. Come work for me."

"Wuh-wuh-what? You d-don't have to duh- do th-"

"I insist. This isn't just a guilt thing either, Wolf. This company prides itself in its philanthropy. Think of it less as a gesture of pity or guilt and more of an investment in your potential."

"Guh-gosh, Fox, I don't know. I w-wouldn't want to luh-let you duh-down..."  
Wolf's gaze casts like a fishing line with a pro at the handle.

Fox reaches stands and leans over, reaching across the desk and gently taking Wolf's chin into his firm grasp.  
Guiding Wolf's gaze back up to his, he smiles benevolently with his eyes closed.  
"I won't take no for an answer."

Tears form in the corner of Wolf's eye and he tries to distract himself before getting too visibly emotional.  
He stands up and vigorously shakes Fox's hand, blinking away drops of salty emotion.

"I wuh-won't let you down, Fuh-Fox!"

"I know you won't."  
Fox says, his smile fading as he sits back down and finishes what he was writing.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passes before he speaks again.  
"How does fifty thousand credits sound? For your first course. Including per diem."

"Fuh-fuh-fifty thousand credits?! I c-could get a place!"

"Wonderful. Until then we'll set you up with lodgings, and of course, the per diem."

"Puh-puh-per d-"

"Daily allowance. Tell me. Are you currently addicted to any drugs of any sort?"  
Fox begins scribbling something else in lieu of waiting for an answer.

Wolf grows silent.  
His mouth dries out. His tongue rough and absorbing moisture like a towel or a rag stuffed into his mouth.  
Eye sockets are like sandpaper against his bloodshot eyeballs.  
Trying to lick his lips but his tongue sticks to his teeth and the roof of his mouth.  
Internally kicking himself for fucking this up before the opportunity even prevented itself...

"It's okay, Wolf,"  
Fox says.  
"You can be honest. I promise, we're just trying to take care of you."

Wolf can't meet his eyes.  
"Yes," he whispers hoarsely.

"That's okay, Wolf. It's not going to effect your standing with this company. What drugs are you currently addicted to?"

"Huh-hhh-horse,"  
he says, hugging his torso with his arms and trembling softly.

"Wolf on the Horse,"  
Fox murmurs to himself thoughtfully.  
"How fascinating."

"H-h-huh?"

"Nothing,"  
Fox says, smiling.  
"If it's not going to be a problem to quit, we'll help you with that, too. Then you'll be the Wolf on the Wagon!"  
He laughs briefly at his own amusing turns of phrase.

"Shh-shhh-shhh-sure, Fuh-Fox. I duh-don't want to luh-let you down,"  
Wolf says, apologetically.

"You won't,"  
Fox says flatly, and without emotion.

Wolf can't take it anymore.  
He burst into tears, choking on a sob.  
His breath labored as he whimpers and whines, trying to collect himself.

Fox blinks and cocks his head at him.  
"Wolf... are you okay?"

Eagerly, the lupine nods, his ears pinned back in shame.  
He sniffles a couple times regains his composure.  
"Yuh-yes Fox. It's just. It's just,"  
an almost bitter and sad laugh escapes him,  
"I didn't think I had any fuh-friends in the world."  
His voice begins to break again,  
"a-and it may sound d-duh-duh-stupid but,"  
he swallows,  
"I muh-may nuh-not be your fuh-friend but you shhh-shhhh-shhhh-sure fuh-fuh-feel like mmmmmmmine!"  
He sniffles again and wipes away tears with the dirty coat sleeve dangling from his arm stump. Letting out a few more shaky sobs as he drops his head over his chest and tries to control his labored breathing.

Wolf almost yelps when he feels the warm and sudden clap of Fox's hand on his back, patting him softly before rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.  
"It's okay, pup,"  
Fox whispers, almost cooing in his ear,  
"you're my friend. I promise."

Wolf lets out a laugh of relief, barely registering or reflecting on the irony of this vulpine several years his junior calling him a pup.  
Part of him would have to admit, though, if you pried it out of him, that he'd find the gesture comforting. Almost motherly, as if he was being cared for.  
And he was. For the first time in his whole empty life he felt like he was truly being cared for. Like there was really someone there who loved him, and would look after him.

His crying dies down under the soothing kindness of this vulpine's touch.  
Calming into steady, ragged breaths.

"Thuh-thank you Fuh-Fox,"  
the lupine says quietly.  
"I d-duh-don't know how I'll ever repuh-pay you."

"There, there,"  
the vulpine says, comforting, calm,  
"I'll take care of you, Wolf. You don't have to worry about any of that."

Wolf O'Donnell leans into the arms of his once arch-enemy. Enveloped in his comforting embrace, he just sits and quietly thinks for a moment about all the great things he can do with his life moving forward.

* * *

2

* * *

The lights in the studio room make Wolf's eye hurt.  
He squints behind the silhouette of his hand.

Behind him, the faint color traces of a blue screen in the bright light. He is sitting on a foldout metal chair.

"Wuh-wuh-what is all of this, Fuh-Fox?"

"This,"  
Fox begins, grinning with his face,  
"is all you."

"Muh-mmmm-me?"

"Of course! You're gonna be the face and voice of this planet's neglected veteran mercenaries!"

"I duh-dunno, Fuh-Fox,"  
Wolf begins,  
"I cuh-can't speak for anybuh-body but me. I can hhhhhh-h-h-hhhardly speak. Whuh. Whuh. Wuh. Whuh. Why wuh-would you want me?"

"Wolf,"  
he says, very earnestly kneeling down next to him.  
The lights in the umbrella casting a prism between them.  
"I shouldn't have to say this. You should know this already. But society has beaten you down into nothing. So I gotta tell you what you should already know. You're a survivor, Wolf. You're gonna make it. You're not going to give up. You'll keep on surviving. Do you know why?"

"Nuh-no."

"Because you have for this long, have you not? One armed, on the streets of Corneria's Megacity 1. You took on the world with only one hand. With only half of one of your forearms. Even if we hadn't stepped in, you'd still be thriving eventually. Do you know why?"

"Buh-becuh-cuh-cause I'm a sssss. Ssssurvivor?"

Fox looks at him as if he would his own child, telling him something profound.  
He nods visibly. Understandingly.  
"Yes, Wolf. Because you. Are. A survivor."  
The vulpine clasps his hand on the lupine's shoulder and it means something.

Wolf is filled with inspiration, just as Fox says he will fill others with the same thing. Inspiration.  
Wolf is feeling hopeful of the future. Fox claps him on the back.

"And go!"  
Fox says, stepping out of frame.

"Whuh. What do I suh-say, Fuh-Fox?"

"Tell your story!"  
Fox encourages from behind a cameraman.  
From behind the lights.  
"Action!"

* * *

3

* * *

"You did great,"  
Fox says, fishing in his wallet.  
"You deserve a break,"  
he's chewing on his tongue looking for something that isn't there.  
The vulpine seems disappointed.  
"I'm sorry, I only have three dollars on me. Go get yourself a sandwich or something, eh?"

"Thuh-this is mmmmm-mmmm-mmmore than enough, Fox, thank-thaaank you."

"I do my best, buddy. Go get yourself some food, and we'll work on setting up your accommodations, okay?"

"Bluh-bless you, Fuh-Fox."

There's a twinkle in his eye next to a sparkle hovering over his warm, tight lipped smile.  
"Bless you, my friend. Hurry back, we'll set you up with a nice place to sleep, okay?"

"Oh-kuh-kay!"  
Wolf had never been more excited about anything in his life.

* * *

4

* * *

"I guh-guess I was buh-born in Venom. I nuh-never muh-met my mmmmom. Muh-my duh-duh-duh-dad used tuh-tuh-tell me that I wah- that I kuh-killed her on muh-my way into this whuh. Whuh. World. B-but I don't know if that's t-true. Luh-later in luh-life he would tuh-tell me thhhhat huh-he kuh-killed her and I was luh-lucky that I wuh was aluh-live. He'd suh-say this after buh-beating me. Or duh-during. I duh-don't know what's truh-true because my dad was c-crazy. He wuh-would also tell me I'm ugly. Yuh-you're ugly, my puh-papa would say. It's tuh-too buh-bad I duh-don't even wahhhhnt to fuck you. Yuh-you took muh-my piece of ass and I duh-don't even wuhhhnt to fuh-ck you."  
Wolf wipes his tears away from his face with the sleeve of his dirty jacket.

"It's okay to cry, if you need to,"  
Fox says from beyond the light,  
"you're in a safe space."

"Thuh-thank you, Fuh-Fox."  
Wolf sniffles.  
"I juh-just need a muh-minute."

"Take your time,"  
Fox says,  
"Take all the time you need."

A moment of silence passes, Wolf collects himself.  
"Muh-my dad is the ruh-reason for my muh-missing eyebuh-ball."  
Another moment of silence passes, Wolf collects himself again.  
"He fuh-found a Juh-james Muh-muh-mcCloud truh-trading cuh-card. In my. Ruh. Ruh. Room."  
Wolf is choking on his words, trying not to sob in front of his hero behind the light, from behind the cameras.  
"He buh-beat me until I couldn't see."

Wolf breaks down.

* * *

5

* * *

Wolf waits in line for a really long time.  
He asks several times on the wait.  
"Cuh-can I guh-get anything here for three dollars?"  
Critters will either shrug or ignore him. He thinks it is sad when people ignore him. Or maybe they didn't hear him. He tries to not feel sadness.  
He tries not to feel sad about this or anything else.  
When he gets to the counter, after what felt like forever, he asks what he can get for three dollars again.  
"Whuh. What can I get for thruh-three dollars?"

"You can get bread with ham or you can get bread with cheese,"  
the ratfaced rat at the counter stated plainly.  
"But you can't get both."  
He corrects himself.  
"Not both sandwiches, both ingredients."  
Or maybe clarify is a better word.  
"Like you can only get one sandwich for three dollars. One of them is ham, the other one is cheese. Which one do you want?"

"Chuh-cheese, I guess,"  
The lupine says, licking his lips.  
"Juh-juh-just cheese is fine. Suh-save the animals, you know?"

The ratfaced rat rolls his eyes at that.

They don't let him eat inside because he is poor and he smells bad.  
So he eats out on the curb.  
While he eats he thinks about everything. Really thinks about it, you know?

"Become my luh-lover,"  
he says, and then he feels bad.  
But he continues despite the fact that he feels bad and despite the fact that he doesn't want to face this part of himself.  
"Become my lover and kuh-kiss me on the forehead and tell me everything is gonna be okay."

He doesn't say that to anyone, but saying it in and of itself hurts him.  
But that's why he said it.

Wolf cries for a minute or two, in between breaks of eating his sandwich.  
And sometimes crying at the same time.

The sunset didn't capture him like it normally did.  
He was lost in service of this clockwork.  
Wolf ate his sandwich and cried.

Like he was.  
Like he will be.

He realized he needed to get back, though he wasn't gone for long.  
He made sure, though, that he'd studied this etymology.

When his line of thinking became nothing, so did his comments.  
And his thoughts as well.

What wouldn't become normal?

* * *

6

* * *

"Even when Star Wolf was toguh-gether. I didn't have fuh-friends. It was starve toguh-gether at buh-best. I only made friends with my wuh-Wolfen."  
His voice is constantly faltering.  
"I named him James but I didn't tell anybuh-body. Didn't really tah-talk to anybody either. So it was easy. I knew I was fighting the wruh-wrong battle. But if I tried to leave they would kuh-kill me. I didn't sign up to be a mercenary. Thuh-they made me do it. Andross mmmade me do it."

* * *

7

* * *

When Wolf gets back, it's scary.  
He wonders why the lights are off.  
He wonders why nobody is around in the stead of everybody.

\

_He says hey everybody? Can I have your aatention_  
_and it doesn't go goodnight._  
_I wouldn't worry about a fucking thing if I were you._

_But you looked at that thing that is yourself and yout hought about ir tight? OK._

_And everything is okay maybe. _  
_And that's maybe because it is._

_When basic fundamentals begin to rend themselves asunder?_  
_You could wonder, but._

_As the infinite, you might imagine._  
_We could be gods of anything, everything._

/

Wolf sleeps.


	2. the sunrise

two;  
the sunrise

* * *

Wolf wakes up to an impact - blinding pain jolting him from his dreams of the future to the pain of the present.  
A boot to his diaphragm, sucking the air and life out of him. Bringing him back to reality. A squirming, desperate mess.

* * *

1

* * *

Pygma.  
Of all the faces from his past he didn't expect to see.  
But he sees him now, plain as day. Standing over him.  
Treating him like vermin.

"Puh-puh-Pygma," Wolf says, "I was waiting for Fuh-Fox."

"That's Officer Pygma, scum,"  
he says, unsheathing his nightstick and jabbing Wolf in the ribs with it.  
"Officer, call me."

"I don't want any t-trouble Officer, I juh-just-"  
Wolf stammers, trying to collect himself and get up.

Pygma pushes his nightstick against his shoulder, keeping him where he is. He says some numbers in code into the radio on his own shoulder.  
"Ten seven four, we got a three niner on the landing."  
He turns his attention back to Wolf.

Wolf's afraid he's done something wrong even though he hasn't.  
"I wuh-wuh-"

"Are you aware this is private property?"  
Pygma spits a vile brown mark onto the beautiful marble steps of the McCloud Industries building. His bottom lip fat with tobacco and his lip sporting residual dirty spit. He wipes his mouth with his forearm and repeats himself, but with more words this time.  
"Son, are you aware this is private property you've been sleeping on?

"Yuh-yes sir,"  
Wolf starts, as he tries to explain himself. Fox had been expecting him back, you see, and when he returned from eating his sandwich the building was closed and all the lights were off. He waited up as long as he could before falling asleep on the stairs.  
Wolf makes an effort to articulate this.  
"I-"

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the hoosegow,"  
Pygma says,  
"You got no business being here and you definitely got no business sleeping here so I'm calling it in, see?"  
He speaks into his shoulder radio again.  
"Two five fifteen, I repeat, two five fifteen. Suspect knowingly trespassing on private property, over. "

"Roger, six nine two three four. Over and out,"  
responds a little voice from the speaker.

"Please, l-"  
Wolf starts, trying to get up again.

Pygma stuffs the nightstick hard into his chest and leans forward.  
"You move like that again, and I aint just gonna poke ye. Understand?"

"Just let me tuh-talk to Fox, he can explain everyth-"  
Wolf says, only verbally protesting this time before getting cut off again.

"The only explanation I need, boy, is what your malfunction is."  
Pygma spits again. This time he doesn't wipe. Tobacco dyed saliva running from the corner of his mouth.  
His eyes like looming tombstones.  
Cold reminders of the grim reality of the way things are.  
"You know what decay is, son?"

Wolf wants to try to answer but he is afraid.

"Decay is you, Wolf."  
Pigma's eyes flare up with an unnatural delight.  
The fire that burns to kill.  
"The scum leeches at the rotten bottom of this city. The filth, sucking away at the nutrients it can gather from the honest goodness of the land to spread their filth. You, boy. You're disgusting and nobody wants you here. And still you insist on sticking around, like some sort of parasitic cockroach. Like some sort of turd that can't be scraped from the shoe of society. And if I can't get the smell off them shoes, boy, I'm gonna be sure to keep 'em in a place that stinks just as bad as they do. Do you understand me?"

Wolf has never before been so speechless, so horrified.  
It's like a shock, like sinking deep down beneath the depths in which you previously sunk.  
Like snapping your fingers and you're at the bottom of the ocean, in a world that doesn't understand the meaning of light. Surrounded by things, creatures you couldn't even begin to fathom.

But that's when the madness stops.

"Hey!"  
A familiar voice shouts sternly from behind Wolf, sending shivers up his spine.

He would have jumped if he weren't still in shock - the sheer surprise of this pig treating him less than a lesser organism for nothing.  
But the way the light hits Fox as he enters his field of view pulls a fluttering gasp into his lungs and causes his heart to skip a beat.

"What's going on here?"  
Fox demands, surprising Wolf with his attention turned towards Pygma instead of him.

Wolf tries to explain anyway, apologetically.  
"Fuh-Fox, I-"

"Shh,"  
Fox says, putting his hand on Wolf's shoulder, comfortingly.  
"It's okay, pup. I'll handle this."

Wolf believes him because he knows Fox is telling the truth.  
And he does.

He repeats himself, but this time with more words.  
"Can you, sir, tell me what's going on here?"

Pygma swallows and speaks.  
"I found this here Vagabond sleeping on these here steps and in fact I was just about to escort him off the premises. Of course, that's when he began to resist. Sir."

"You work here?"  
Fox demands moreso than inquiring.

"Head of security, sir,"  
Pygma says. His demeanor different.  
More falsely professional. More submissive.

"And you were harassing this citizen?"  
Fox asks, deadly serious.  
"You were harassing my friend here, for waiting for me?"

"Sir, I was just trying to clear out the riffraff. Sir."

Fox is visibly displeased.  
"My friend here is riffraff to you? Our new employee? He's riffraff?"

"Sir, I-"  
Pygma tries to speak but now he's the one being cut off.

"Do you like your job?"

"Yes, I-"

"I think you need to learn a lesson in common decency, sir,"  
Fox says sternly, crossing his arms.  
"What do you think, Wolf? Should I fire him right here and now?"

"Whah-"  
Wolf stammers, confused, pointing at himself.  
"Yuh-you mean me?"

"Of course I'm not talking about firing you, Wolf,"  
Fox says, shaking his head sympathetically.  
"Has this pig treated you unfairly? Should I let him go?"

Wolf blinks in disbelief and shakes his head at the responsibility.  
"Nuh-no, Fox, it's okay."

"No,"  
Fox says, shaking his head and tsking.  
"No, it's not okay. Wolf, you have to value yourself more highly. I didn't see much but I saw enough to know he was treating you very unfairly. I can't tolerate this behavior in my business."

Wolf feels responsible. He tries to protest.  
"But-but-"

"Shh, it's okay, pup,"  
Fox says, helping Wolf to his feet and patting and rubbing at his back, comforting him.  
"It's okay. It's gonna be okay. Okay?"

Wolf nods trustingly, not saying anything.

"Wolf here thinks I should go easy on you. Be soft,"  
Fox says, returning his attention to the security officer before him.  
"And let it be known that McCloud Industries is not without mercy. Hand over your badge and your nightstick."

"Wuh-wait!"  
Wolf says, distressed.

Fox doesn't look at him.  
But he moves his hand up to the pressure point of the shoulder on the opposite side of Wolf's neck and massages gently.  
Keeping his eyes on Pygma's, he delivers his words very deliberately.  
"You're on suspension from head of security. As of now, you'll work two weeks as a production assistant and we'll have a hearing about your behavior moving forward."  
He turns his attention back to Wolf and smiles genuinely.  
"We don't leave anyone out in the cold here at Fox McCloud industries."

Wolf smiles back, a sound of relief escaping him.

"Yes sir,"  
Pygma grumbles, handing over his essentials.

Fox turns his attention back to him and nods towards the building.  
"Go talk to Harold about what's happened and await further debriefing. You're not off today, just awaiting instructions. Dismissed."

Pygma shamefully walks into the building and out of the street.

Fox turns his attention back to Wolf and smiles again.  
"You doing okay?"

"Y-yes,"  
Wolf smiles.

"How was the hotel?"  
Fox asks earnestly.

"Huh-hotel?"  
Wolf asks, confused.

"Wolf,"  
Fox stares, looking at him in disbelief.  
"Where did you sleep?"

"On the stuh-stairs,"  
Wolf says timidly, looking at his feet.

"Oh no,"  
Fox says, genuinely distressed.  
"Wolf, I'm so sorry. You didn't find the note in the door?"

"I suh-saw it there but it wuh-wasn't mine so I didn't touch it,"  
Wolf says earnestly.

Fox looks as if he's about to cry but he doesn't.  
"Of course it's yours, Wolf, it has your name on it. I'm so sorry."  
He retrieves it and hands it to Wolf.

Wolf looks at the sealed envelope, bewildered.  
He looks up at Fox and says,  
"I'm suh-sorry Fox, I don't knuh-know how to read."

In the envelope addressed to Wolf O'Donnell that was left hanging between the doors in plain sight was a hotel room key and a note from Fox expressing his apologies for having to leave on a sudden emergency.

"Please don't apologize, Wolf,"  
Fox says, almost desperately, his ears pinning back.  
"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the ignorant one, here. I sincerely apologize and hope you can forgive me."  
Fox's gaze falters, for the first time since Wolf has met him.

Wolf timidly puts his hand on Fox's shoulder and Fox's gaze rises to meet his.  
"Yuh-you've done more than enough for me. Puh-please don't regret it."

Fox shakes his head with a bittersweet smile stretching across his face.  
They embrace.


	3. the hot car

three;  
the hot car

* * *

There are some things you simply cannot apply a monetary value to.

To Wolf O'Donnel, the warm smile on Fox McCloud's face is one of those priceless things in life he wouldn't give up for any amount of money.

A present warmth and comfort reminds him of what he always sought frivolously from the concept of a mother - a mother he didn't have and couldn't necessarily get.

But this feeling is close, he thinks.

Maybe close enough.

To Wolf, this moment, or each moment he spends with Fox is the closest he'll ever get, he assumes. He feels a pang of guilt for wanting it to last longer than it does every time it comes to a close.

* * *

1

* * *

"Tell you what, why don't you run over to the hotel and return those keys," Fox says, handing Wolf the envelope with his name on it. "I'll pull around with the car and we'll run some errands together. After that, we'll get you set up with a more permanent place to stay."

"Okuh-kay Fox!" Wolf does say with some enthusiasm. His weary, bloodshot eyes presenting the smallest seed of hope for the first time since he can remember.

He tries to stifle that feeling, a gut reaction or instinct after years of physical and emotional abuse. It's not something that crosses his mind, or that he's cognizant of.

Wolf turns to carry out his task before Fox grabs him by the shoulder and stops him.

"Wolf. I cannot express how sorry I am for neglecting to deliver these to you personally. Such incompetence on my part is inexcusable. It will not happen again."

Wolf stares into Fox's eyes, shocked.

Like Fox's words were some kind of speech vacuum cleaner that sucked up all the things he could say.

"Fox, I-"

"I won't hear of it, Wolf," Fox says, gently placing his finger over the trembling and vulnerable lupine's lips. "I won't hear you apologize for my mistakes. You've beaten yourself down enough, do you understand?"

Shaking, Wolf hesitantly nods.

"Not everything bad that happens to you is your fault," Fox says, as if Wolf didn't need to say a word for Fox to understand him.

Just by the expression on his face. "It's important that we all take responsibility for our actions."

How profound an experience, to be understood at all.

But without speaking? Without even having to try to explain.

Fox just knew, and he knew how to help and Wolf didn't have to say a thing.

Wolf fights the tears trying to well up in the spaces between his eyelids.

"For what it's worth, Fuh-Fox, I appreciate everything you're duh-doing for me. It wuh-would be wrong of me to have expectations when you're buh-eing so ki-ind."

"Not at all. I'm a man of my word, and if I give you my word and fail to live up to it, I have failed you. And remember, this isn't an act of kindness - you're earning it!"

Fox pats Wolf's shoulder before letting him go.

"Thuh-thank you, Fox."

"No need," Fox says smiling.

* * *

2

* * *

The bell to the hotel lobby jingles over the door as Wolf steps through it.

The tinkle-tinkle sends a cold shiver up his spine - reminds him of bad times at war, and the things that happened there.

A seed in his eye cracks and he's taken back to places where he's being shot at - or worse!

He dives behind the counter like it was Viet Nam - only it wasn't Viet Nam, it was the Lylat Wars. But it wasn't that either.

It was PTSD. It IS PTSD. And PTSD is a very serious thing that you should remember and you should remember that. This is a story about tolerance and love and identity.

So Wolf crawls out of his hiding space and he does good. He does good like you or I might not in his position.

Sometimes, when you're as good as Wolf, your thoughts and ideas end up as clean as mirrors.

He's standing at the goshdamn counter. And he can't think of anything else other than what he's supposed to do.

That's when it makes sense. There's something of a rhythm to it. He'll figure that out later.

"Could you take back these cardroom keys. These keycards. Cards that open rooms."

She nods. "Yeah, I can do that. Did you enjoy your stay?"

He lies. "Yeah. I enjoyed my stay. It was really good."

She smiles at him. "That's good I'm glad you think so."

His laugh is a lie, but it's a genuine lie.

"Thank you for choosing KRUNGIS, I hope you choose us again."

Wolf's spit tastes like lead, and is just as heavy.

* * *

3

* * *

"Do you understand what just happened?" Fox asks.

Wolf responds. "I puh-payed a bill."

"You payed a bill for an experience you didn't have, yes?"

"Yes."

"Unfortunately, this is a good time to get into this lesson. I didn't want to teach you this, this early. But surely you can feel the disconnect from your efforts, yes?"

"I guess so." Wolves eyes are like the novelty coins you press to be Ovulated, or oVAL shaped.

"Now, you look here," Fox says, pointing to where Wolf should look. It's at an old cellphone. "You use this. You call me from my errands. You use this to stop me from what I'm doing, for whatever reason, okay?"

Wolf is confused. "Your number is in that phone?"

"It's the only number in that phone. You pick up that baby and hit send twice and it's me. It's me you got, you know?"

"I know," Wolf says. He understands. He gets it. It makes sense to him. "Just tell me what you want to do."

"I'll tell you what. I usually have my constituents handcuff themselves to the inside of my car with this," he says, setting the handcuffs down on the armrest. "But I don't want you to do that, do I?"

With his left hand, Wolf grabs a cuff and slaps his wrist into it. Winking, he slaps the empty cuff against the door and he winks again. It's one of the coolest things he's ever done. He winks again.

Fox pretends not to notice the overkill. But he is a bit heartbroken.

"You really are committed to any station you get, aren't ya?"

Wolf winks in response. He is growing, getting better. "Yup," he says.

"Fair enough," Fox says, "but remember, your water supply is here," he says, pointing to a thermos in the cup holder, "and if you need me, just hit send twice on that phone!"

Wolf smiles and nods to this and at this.

"Remember to roll down the windows if you need air!" Fox says, as he closes the door.

Wolf nods to him before he begins to walk away. That's when he reaches for the thermos, and remembers he only has one arm. He tugs against his restraints and screams into the stagnating cab of the vehicle.

* * *

4

* * *

The windows are electric and even if he could get to the buttons with the arm he does have, he guesses he wouldn't want to.

This is a test of wills, isn't it?

Time stands still as sweat mattes fur.

His half arm desperately tries to slap the thermos into his lap but it seems pretty fixated. It seems like it's stuck in the console.

The nub slams the window down button again to no avail. At this point, he knows the outcome.

Wolf's eyes flutter closed and the air sucks from his windpipe.

There is nothing here for him. And still, he tries.

Death manifests before his eyes, and still, he is struggling to breathe. And still, he is struggling to say something.

Wolf actually said something and Fox would have listened, Fox would have listened if Wolf could have picked up that phone, if he could have known the mistake that had been made.

A phantom limb reaches out to a righteous cause - but it's too late.

* * *

5

* * *

There's a dick like a log that slaps Wolf awake but actually it's as light as fingertips against his cheek. Because that's what it is.

Fingertips against his cheeks.

"You wouldn't believe what I seen, sir."

Fox's fingertips caressing the tension in his neck, sympathetically.

"I would," Fox says, his hand over his heart. "Get some rest. I'll drive you home. You'll sleep in an actual bed worthy of yourself," he says, he says. "Worthy of us."

Wolf thinks he hears that last part good but he second guesses himself. Wolf wonders about an "us" between him and Fox before blushing and feeling silly.

His droopy eyes blink a few times before looking at Fox. He smiles and realizes his good hand, or as you'd have it, his only hand was unlocked from the door.

Wolf reaches for a drink of water and he gets one good. He gets one right in the mouth.

* * *

6

* * *

He's tired when he's lead out of the car by his good arm.

That's when he's feeling good. Real good.

Not quite sure how to process it good.

Wolf is shown around the manor, and he is pleased before he takes a step inside.

Just having the support of Fox behind him, Wolf reaches outward as Fox picks up his collapsing body and holds it hard against his hard, fuzzy body.

"Are you ready for bedtime?" Fox's smooth voice whispers into his ear.

"Yes," Wolf says. "Yes..."

* * *

**WARNING:  
**_**If you enjoy the pure and fluffy nature of this story it is probably better to stop reading now and imagine your own ending. Or imagine that WAS the ending! That works too!  
****Things are about to get a little more "adult" and I do not wish to alienate anyone with the content moving forward. ;)**_


End file.
